


Who Needs an Overcoat

by marrieddorks



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Christmas, Cold Weather, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8751610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marrieddorks/pseuds/marrieddorks
Summary: Jared enthusiastically decorated for Christmas and Jensen had to walk home in the snow.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jameee25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jameee25/gifts).



> I've been overtaken by Christmas joy and started five Christmas fics. This is one of them and it's nothing but fluff <3 title is from "I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm" by Irving Berlin

Who Needs an Overcoat

_“Who needs an overcoat I'm burning with love/My heart's on fire and the flame grows higher/So I will weather the storm/What do I care how much it may storm/I've got my love to keep me warm.” – Irving Berlin_

Two weeks ago, Jared had hauled in the biggest and fullest Christmas tree he could find at Thorton’s and grinned, all dimples and sunshine, at Jensen’s glare. That grin stayed in place when he had woken Jensen up the next morning with coffee-warmed kisses until the Scrooge got out of bed and helped decorate the tree with red and silver ornaments. Later that same day, after chasing Harley around the house because he had thought one of the round bulbs was a toy, they strung up lights lining the ceiling, circling the tree, and hidden in the Evergreen garland on the mantle. The finishing touches had included four red stockings, an advent calendar, a retrieval of their Christmas-themed mugs from somewhere in storage, and, of course, a star atop the tree.

It truly began to feel like Christmas, however, when a snowstorm rolled through three days ago and hadn’t really let up since. Because of the single-digit temperatures – which Jared could admittedly do without – their fireplace had been constantly roaring and the coffee pot was brewing two or three pots a day. There had also been ample time to marathon the repetitious Christmas movies all on T.V. too, and Jared made sure jingly tunes full of sleigh bells rang out every morning and night.

Jared was already home for the weekend. Winter break was almost upon Gladstone High School and he had reminded his students before they left about their papers due next week, the encouraging memo that it was their last assignment before break began attached at the end. He’d stayed after for an hour, grading a few of the book reports from his freshmen students (who were his favorites, but he would never tell anyone besides Jensen that fact) then drove home. Ten minutes after walking in the door he had changed into flannel lounge pants, plugged in all the lights, brewed a pot of coffee to be ready for when Jensen got home, and started the fireplace. Then those flannel pants found the couch and that’s where Jared was now, sitting in front of the T.V. and fireplace, finger pressing repetitively at the remote buttons.

The sun had just set, always so early in the wintertime, and he could no longer see the gentle fall of the snowflakes out the windows. He could hear the wind though and his sleepy brain was trying to figure out why Jensen wasn’t home yet just in time to hear the door creak open then shut with a soft click. Jared couldn’t force himself to move, his body fire-warm and his eyes lidded with impending sleep, but he managed to call over his shoulder with a tired voice. “Hey, babe!” He blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision and he could suddenly make out the continuous line of Christmas movies he’d already watched this month cross his screen: _How the Grinch Stole Christmas, The Polar Express, Elf, The Santa Claus, I’ll Be Home for Christmas._ Jensen would kill him if he watched _Elf_ again this week. But he’d only seen Jonathan Taylor Thomas once this holiday season. “You worked late,” he said abruptly, haziness shrouding his mind from coherent thought and he felt seven seconds behind everything. “I made coffee, but it’s probably cooling down now.”

He clicked through another four channels before his sleep-slow brain started to catch up and realize that Jensen hadn’t uttered one word since he opened the door. “Jensen?” He twisted his torso around, arm finding leverage on the back of the couch, only for a horrified gasp to wrench itself from his throat.

Jensen hadn’t moved from the door. He stood there, water dripping off of the hem of his dark blue peacoat, now black with melted snow. The ends of his jeans were drenched too. The skin on his bare hands was a startling shade of red, but not as startling as the red covering his wind-bitten cheeks or the paleness of his lips. There was still ice in his hair.

“Jesus Christ, Jensen!” Jared startled and whatever sleepy haze had almost lulled him to sleep disappeared in an instant. He stood up, socked-feet closing the distance between them and he could hear Jensen’s teeth chattering the closer he got. “Babe, what happened?” Jared asked, but he didn’t ask if he could grab Jensen’s shoulder and steer him to where the fire was crackling. He could feel tremors wracking through Jensen’s body and he sat down on the wood floor, pulling Jensen with him.

“I-I-I-I-I had the last p-p-patient of the day,” Jensen stuttered out, his teeth hardly separating as he spoke, “so I s-s-s-stayed and locked up.” Jared was pulling Jensen’s boots off, tossing them somewhere behind him, and he cringed when he saw that Jensen’s socks were sopping wet.

“God, Jensen,” he muttered.

“I wou-would’ve called, but m-m-my phone had died a few hours earlier. I-I-I didn’t think I n-n-needed it so…” Jensen trailed off as another series of shivers overtook his being.

“Did the car break down?” Jared asked as he moved to his knees so he could lean forward and unbutton the coat to push off of Jensen’s shoulders.

“Wouldn’t s-s-start. Too cold.”

“You mean you walked all the way here?” Jared’s eyes couldn’t get any wider and he felt nauseous with worry and unjustified guilt. “Babe,” he barely whispered, stopping so he could wrap Jensen’s too-cold hands in his own, silent mouth pressing soft kisses all over them. He felt his lips chill with each touch.

Jensen hissed suddenly, arms closing in on himself and he leaned away from the fire. Jared knew without asking what was going on and he winced in even more sympathy, familiar with the pin-prick feeling of heat breaking through ice-covered skin, pain-filled blood vessels dilating too quickly. Water dripped from Jensen’s hair now, melting rapidly with its proximity to the fire. One drop rolled down his forehead, just off-center, before falling to the inner corner of his left eye until it ran just like a teardrop on icy cheeks. Jared reached out to brush it away with a gentle swipe of his thumb, big hand cradling the sharp cut jaw like it was the most fragile thing in the world, and Jensen leaned into his warmth, eyelashes brushing the freckles that stood out even more on his frostnipped face.

“I’m going to go brew a new pot of coffee,” Jared spoke softly and he noticed just how loud the wind was now. Jensen walked in that. “Stay here for a moment and get a little warmer, then we’re going to get you in the shower. Sound good?” Jensen nodded stiffly, bones still chilled, but Jared found a little hope in the color returning to his lips.

He poured the now-cold coffee down the kitchen sink. A quick look over his shoulder brought an ache to his chest, an ache that he could feel blossoming with icy cold tendrils all throughout his being. Jensen was sitting in a puddle of melted snow, shivers traveling down his spine. He kept leaning towards the fire then away from it, unsure if the warmth was worth the pain, and the Christmas lights all around looked so much more lively than he did. Jared needed to get him warm.

It only took another minute to get the coffee grounds and water into the maker and Jared hurried over to Jensen, ignoring as his socks soaked through with water. “C’mon,” he mumbled, helping Jensen stand up and doing most of the lifting. They made it to the bedroom without too much difficulty and Jared familiarly sought out the hem of Jensen’s shirt, tugging it over his head and further messing up wet-dark hair. The skin all along Jensen’s torso was clammy and only encouraged Jared to swiftly unbuckle the belt at Jensen’s waist and shuck his sodden jeans down. “Let’s get you in the shower.”

Once Jensen was in the shower, Jared made a quick scour through their dresser, pulling out out a pair of Jensen’s gray sweatpants and one of his own too-big University of Texas shirts, with ‘Hook ‘em Horns’ boldly printed on the front. The sleeves would be too long and cover Jensen’s hands if he wanted. After that he went back to the kitchen, making a quick detour to dry the puddle that had melted off of Jensen, to pour the steaming coffee into a mug with a gingerbread house painted on it. He sat it gently on the table in the living room so he could gather up blankets. One, two, three, four blankets would be enough.

He heard Jensen, the soft pitapat of sock-clad feet get closer and closer about ten minutes later, and the sight was so much more welcome than the one that had been in front of the door less than an hour ago. Jensen’s hair was still wet-dark, weighed down with shower water, and Jared could smell his own shampoo wafting through the air. There was redness on Jensen’s cheeks, but it was from the heat of the shower this time and his lips were almost too pink, rushed with blood as warmth finally settled in. Like Jared had hoped, freckled hands were nowhere to be seen, tucked away in the orange sleeves of Jared’s shirt.

“You look cozy,” Jared commented with a smile. There was a sleepiness in Jensen’s gaze that Jared knew he himself wouldn’t get back for a while.

“I feel better.” His voice was a little hoarse, soft and tired and unused, and Jared silently held out the cup of coffee. Jensen continued his trek to the couch, falling just a little bit ungracefully on the cushions before graciously taking the cup in his hands, fingers curling around it and savoring the warmth there.

They both stayed silent, Jensen hardly moving the cup from his mouth and Jared hardly moving his eyes from Jensen. When Jensen had drained about half of the coffee, Jared reached out, hand sliding between Jensen’s shoulder blades and down the valley of his spine before dancing back up as he moved to sit closer.

“I wish I would’ve known,” he said against Jensen’s temple.

“I’m fine, Jared,” Jensen said and he turned his head so their foreheads pressed against one another. “There’s no way you could’ve known.”

“Still…”

He let Jensen finish the rest of his drink without interruption, but the moment the mug emptily clinked when placed back on the table, Jared shifted so he could lie down, a red pillow under his head. “C’mon.” He looked expectantly at Jensen, arms out and wide, and Jensen sighed, shoulders dropping just a bit. “Don’t argue,” Jared demanded, but there was an almost-plead in his tone. “Let me warm you up.”

It probably wasn’t – most definitely wasn’t – fair for Jared to play the puppy-dog eyes, but he so desperately wanted this, needed it after seeing Jensen standing in the doorway, and Jensen gave in, not even uttering a protest. Instead he also shifted, legs moving until they were comfortably tangled with Jared’s, arms sliding up and up Jared’s torso until they could curl under his broad shoulders. Jared’s own arms wrapped Jensen up on instinct, bringing a blanket, the green and white-trimmed one, with them just as Jensen’s face pressed into the familiar curve of Jared’s neck. Jared inhaled the comforting scent of Jensen’s hair as his fingers snuck under the hem of the Longhorn’s shirt to soothingly rub circles into the shower-warmed skin. He felt Jensen exhale, a soft puff of breath, against his jaw.

“Hey,” Jensen started as he pressed in even closer, like he could draw out even more of Jared’s body heat that way. Jared would give it all to him if he could.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” There was a fluttering of eyelashes tickling just along Jared’s pulsepoint.

“What’re you thanking me for?” Jared asked, drawing back just so he could see those now-bright green eyes, drooping and swimming with twinkling lights.

“I’m warm now,” Jensen said. Calloused fingers found their way under Jared’s shirt too, soft and slow with their touch and just the barest hint of cold still in the tips. They feathered along his ribcage before tucking away underneath the weight of his shoulders.

“Babe,” Jared laughed a little, pulling the blanket tighter. “You don’t have to thank me. You just walked in below-freezing temperatures. We’re getting you a new car by the way.”

“I don’t need a new car,” Jensen yawned. “I just need this one fixed.”

“Yeah, you’re getting a car for Christmas. Also, we’re getting you a real winter coat. And gloves. And you’re taking one of my beanies because –”

“My car is fine, my coat is fine, I’m fine, Jared,” Jensen said and this time he drew back, face hovering over Jared’s own, one hand slipping upward to card through brown hair. “I’m warm and I’ve got you. We can worry about everything else later.”

Jared had known with a feeling way down in his gut that there could never be too many Christmas lights and seeing Jensen just inches away, getting warmer by each passing second and surrounded by a halo of white and bright, confirmed that feeling with an almost ferocious zeal and he slid his hand to the back of Jensen’s neck, pulling him down so he could kiss him soundly. It was a soft and languid-warm kiss, dreamy and flooded with adoration. It briefly crossed Jared’s mind just how postcard worthy they must look, a Christmas tree backdrop and everything, and he smiled, dimpled and wide, and whispered against Jensen’s mouth, “I love you.” And Jensen whispered it back against the sleep-slow pulse at Jared’s throat, his own smile present and relieved as he settled back down and burrowed away in Jared’s warm arms.


End file.
